


Upon A Midnight Clear

by latin_cat



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Gen, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/pseuds/latin_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The officers of the <i>Renown</i> up on deck one snowy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon A Midnight Clear

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/7198) by Gayalondiel. 



When Mr. Bush came on deck, pulling his boatcloak tight around his shoulders, it had already been snowing for some time. He had been vaguely aware of the shift in the air pressure whilst he slept and so had not been surprised by the change in conditions when he was woken some time later by the sound of the hands being roused from their hammocks to start clearing snow up on deck. What had surprised Bush though, as he had risen from his cot and hastily started dressing, was that no one came with a summons for him to go up on deck and assist. The _Renown_ was a big ship, a seventy-four no less, one below her complement of five lieutenants and with Mr. Hornblower on watch Bush would have thought Buckland would have needed every officer available to supervise the work – and yet still no one came for him. Ten minutes later, after much frustrated pacing and peering at his watch, Bush had decided to go up and see for himself what was happening.

As he emerged from beneath the hatchway coaming snowflakes stung his eyes, but he was relieved to note that it was not a true blizzard; the wind was bitter, but not fierce. Looking around Bush noticed Hornblower at his station before the ship’s big double wheel, standing stiffly without his cloak and looking somewhat ridiculous as snow settled on his hat and shoulders. Bush imagined the man must be freezing, for all he was doing quite well at disguising it, and wondered why he had not called someone to fetch it for him – or was this some new punishment dreamt up by Sawyer? It was possible, Bush reasoned, as he doubted even Hornblower’s pride could extend to denying himself warmth on a bitterly cold night; therefore he would not inquire. Young Wellard he spied up top directing working parties amongst the rigging in an attempt to keep the blocks and tackles free of ice. In harbour this desperate fight to keep the rigging free was practically unknown as no sane man would dream of putting to sea in such weather, but out here the failure to trim a sail at a moment’s notice could mean the difference between life and death, and so the stiff, swollen cordage had at all costs to be kept free. Further amidships Mr. Buckland was directing those men sweeping the decks, reinforced by Matthews’ less delicate bellows.

As he approached the first lieutenant Bush caught a brief flash of alarm in Buckland’s eyes before his face became once more impassive. Bush touched his hat, his heart sinking.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Good evening, Mr. Bush,” Buckland said stiffly. “I had thought you would be below getting some rest.”

“I was, sir,” Bush answered evenly. “But I found it impossible to sleep with the men being called to duty. I was wondering, Mr Buckland, why I had not been sent for. Surely you need all men available to assist at this moment?”

Bush had not meant his offer of aid to be a criticism, yet it appeared Mr. Buckland took it as such for the first lieutenant further squared his already near rigid shoulders, and replied curtly; “I think you will find we shall cope well enough without your assistance. I suggest that you get what rest you can; some of us at least need to be fresh to take our watches the next day. Good evening, to you.”

So saying Buckland turned his back on the second lieutenant and walked away forward, chivvying some hands along that had paused in their work to blow on their frozen fingers. Bush watched him go, frustration churning his stomach into a tight knot. It would be like this, he reminded himself, until he fell out of Sawyer’s favour; but he could not risk doing so – not until he was certain there was no way left to bridge the divide between captain and wardroom. That time, Bush felt, was coming ever closer, for he was almost certain that Captain Sawyer was no longer master of his own wits. The man’s eccentricities and constant paranoia meant that the ship had become like a powder keg; ready to explode at any moment, and Bush knew that in doing so such an explosion would spell disaster for every man, boy and officer aboard, guilty or innocent. Bush only prayed that Dr. Clive would see sense and declare Sawyer unfit before it went too far.

Gloomy reflections aside, in defiance of Buckland’s hostile remark Bush decided he might as well stay up on deck a little while to enjoy the snow. He knew well it was simply an effect of their travelling further south and nothing to do with the season, but Bush could not help but be reminded of the Christmases he had spent aboard ship in home waters. With such familiar security came the prospect of warmth and fresh food below decks; good spirits in ready supply and the singing of carols. One song in particular came to the fore of his mind now and in his low, growling voice he hummed the tune softly within his throat, turning the words over in his head as he did so. Bush liked to sing on occasion, though he knew his voice was nothing particularly special, and he liked singing carols most of all. Christmas was one of the few times he enjoyed attending church for that reason alone.

Glancing aft to the quarterdeck again he caught sight of movement by the wheel. Kennedy had come on deck wrapped in his own cloak, carrying Hornblower’s and a mug of something hot. He handed the cloak to Hornblower, who put it on with what seemed like pained gratitude, and then after casting a furtive look about the deck Kennedy handed Hornblower the coffee too. As Bush watched he saw a subtle look exchanged between the two, and for a moment their hands brushed, Kennedy’s hold lingering a little longer than necessary on the tin mug.

Over by the railing Bush saw the fleeting caresses of the young men’s fingers and felt what he knew to be a pang of jealousy. Aboard the _Renown_ the officers were pressed from all sides, hounded by Sawyer and isolated even in their own company, denied the comfort of easy conversation that prevented shipboard life from turning into a living hell; yet despite all the dangers friendships had been forged, and it was this friendship between Hornblower and Kennedy that Bush found himself envying. The two young men were both handsome, able fellows who knew their duties and their seamanship, and Bush suspected that were circumstances different they would welcome his company. Day after day, watching his every step, he found himself aching for companionship; to be able to talk to any of his messmates without them gauging his every expression or remark for some sinister motive. Yes, he had to play his cards close to his chest in order to trick Sawyer into trusting him, yet in doing so the price he paid was complete isolation. Soon, Bush prayed, that would all change.

Turning away from the rail Bush wrapped his cloak tighter about himself, then crossing the short distance to the aft hatchway made his way below decks and back to his tiny cabin in the wardroom.

Soon, but not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> The carol _It Came Upon the Midnight Clear_ dates in its full form from 1850, but the tune was a much older traditional English air. Therefore once more I am taking liberties.


End file.
